"These scenes were repeated at hospitals all over the District tonight," said the sober-faced anchor as he came on the screen, "after two men, tentatively identified as Shining Path terrorists, drove past the crowd, blowing a cloud of white dust from an exhaust pipe. Called a 'neurotoxin,' the compound attacked the victims' central nervous systems, creating an unreasoned sense of fear. Literally hundreds of people have been treated at the scene and in local hospitals. Several District of Columbia officials are calling on the federal government to mobilize the National Guard to prevent further terrorist acts."
Stern turned down the volume. "That wasn't the way we expected it to go," he said, a scowl on his face. "What did you think you could accomplish by coming up here?" He moved around to face them.
"I suppose you've already heard from your cleanup crew," Burke said, arms folded, eyes boring into Stern with a cold stare. "Your scheme to eliminate the congressional leadership didn't work."
"In the first place, it wasn't my scheme. And secondly, what makes you think it was aimed at eliminating those congressmen?"
Rodman spoke up. "That's what Major Romashchuk told Yuri Shumakov. It was just before I sneaked up and whacked him over the head with a wrench. He said killing the congressional leadership with the nerve gas would create panic, dissuade the President from sending help to the Commonwealth of Independent States."
Stern snarled. "For your information, and I don't give a damn if you believe it or not, the bastard lied to me. He never told me about the nerve agent. He only mentioned a neurotoxin, said it would create fear and panic but would wear off after a few days. I wouldn't have approved it if I'd known he planned to use anything lethal."
Burke gave him a look of disgust. "I'm touched by your concern. You didn't show the same restraint when you hired that Max character to take care of me."
"Or when you used that drug to fake the suicides of Bryan Janney and Colonel Bolivar," Roddy added.
Stern's features relaxed into a diabolical smile. "You can't prove any of that. And as for what happened tonight, the Shining Path has already taken credit for it. No evidence exists of any mortars or chemical shells. No dump truck or former KGB major."
"That was impressive," Burke admitted. "How did they get there so damned fast?"
"They are employed by an associate of mine. I had him standing by just in case anything should go wrong. Now it will be my pleasure to have the 'cleanup crew,' as you chose to call them, complete the job. They will be here shortly to eliminate all evidence of you and your troublesome theories."
Burke leaned back and shook his head. "I wouldn't advise that, Mr. Stern. If you know of a guardian angel, you'd do well to assign him to look after Roddy and me."
"Tell me another joke, Hill. You're as good as dead."
"If I am, then you're headed for prison. Maybe the electric chair. I have every bit of evidence that's needed to prove you murdered Lt. Col. Juan Bolivar. Hotel records showing you were in Washington the night he died, and left the next morning. Videotape of the pharmacist identifying your photograph as the man who posed as Juan Bolivar and bought Dalmane pills. Videotape of the leasing agent in Silver Spring confirming that no Dr. Morton Hailey ever had an office at that address. Phone company records showing the telephone number on the prescription pad was active only during the month of Bolivar's death. And a retiree from the Pentagon to whom the Colonel confessed just before he died, told the whole bloody story of Roddy's frame-up. I don't think there's a jury in the country who wouldn't convict you and levy the maximum sentence."
Adam Stern sat there for a moment as cold and unyielding as a block of granite, his eyes chips of blue ice, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "You'll never get it to the right people."
"Want to bet your life on it? Everything is sealed and in the hands of a lawyer," Burke said. That was a bit of an exaggeration, but it would be true as quickly as Lori could deliver the package to the lawyer. "He has been instructed that should anything happen to me or any of my family, or to Roddy or any of his family, copies will be sent to the local district attorney, the chief of homicide in the Metropolitan Police and an editor at The Washington Post. I've added a note that the Guadalajara police can probably duplicate the evidence in the case of Bryan Janney."
Stern walked over to the table, grabbed one of the chairs, spun it around and sat in it backward, resting his chin on the high back. He held the gun up, flexing his wrist back and forth like a nervous twitch. "So you think I'll simply let you walk out of here?"
"No. I think you'll get on that phone and call your boss. I want to talk to him."
"Laurence Coyne?"
"The big boss. Bernard Whitehurst. Have you told him what happened to the grand strategy tonight?"
"He knew nothing about what was planned."
"You're probably right about that. It's called 'deniability,' isn't it? But Romashchuk confirmed the Roundtable leadership helped bankroll his operation, as well as what was taking place in Minsk." Burke's voice hardened. "Get Whitehurst on the phone."
Stern hesitated at first, hatred filling his eyes, but finally yielded and placed the call.
Burke took the phone. "Burke Hill, Mr. Whitehurst. I trust your meeting has been going well?"
"Very well, thank you," the banker said in a syrupy voice. "I'm surprised to hear you are back in Washington. Nathaniel told me you were taking care of business in Korea."
"I'm afraid I found things a bit more pressing in Washington. Mr. Stern tells me you knew nothing about what Major Romashchuk had planned here tonight. I'll accept that you didn't know the details, only that something disruptive would take place."
"I'm afraid I have no idea what you are talking about, Mr. Hill."
"On the contrary, I'm quite certain you do. That's why all of the Roundtable bigwigs are out in Colorado, out of harm's way and safe from any complicity in the deal. And that's why Nate suddenly ordered me to fly to Seoul."
"That's preposterous!"
"Oh, is it? Well, let me tell you what I've compiled on your Mr. Adam Stern." He repeated what he had told "the enforcer" about the evidence he had placed in the hands of an attorney. "Colonel Rodman can testify that Stern met with Major Romashchuk in Mexico. And Señora Elena Castillo Quintero, she's the one Romashchuk murdered and left Roddy to take the blame for, she told him that her father's old friend in the Council of Lyon, one of your comrades, asked her to spy on him for the Major. I also have photographs, among others, of Stern and Romashchuk with the blue minivan at Advanced Security Systems. I'd say we can make a pretty good case for duplicity by leaders of the Foreign Affairs Roundtable."
"What is this, some kind of blackmail attempt?"
"I don't trust your man, Stern. I want to be sure nothing happens to Colonel Rodman or myself, or our families."
"Are you suggesting that I guarantee your safety?"
Burke smiled. "That's not bad for a start. But there's more. I want General Philip Patton out and Colonel Rodman's case re-opened. Patton was the bastard who screwed up that Iranian operation. Roddy should be exonerated. I don't care how they manage it. I'm sure your friends can think of something."
"General Patton has about outlived his usefulness anyway," Whitehurst replied calmly. "That is your bargain?"
To this man, thought Burke, people, economies, governments, everything was reduced to little more than pieces on a game board, to be bargained over or discarded, depending upon their usefulness, or lack of it, at the moment. He shook his head. "Sorry, I'm not finished. I don't want any action taken against Major Peter Schuler, who flew us in his helicopter tonight. He was Roddy's copilot in Iran. I also want Yuri Shumakov's body sent back to his family in Belarus, and I want Brad Pickens to convince the Mexicans that Roddy was not the one who killed Elena Castillo Quintero."